


Merlin Emrys and the Last Dragon Egg

by schweet_heart



Series: Merlin Fic [178]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Indiana Jones Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Banter, Crack, Domestic Boyfriends, Established Relationship, Fandom Allusions & Cliches & References, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2019-12-29 20:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18301004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schweet_heart/pseuds/schweet_heart
Summary: In which Merlin Emrys and his long-suffering boyfriend, Arthur, go in search of of a lost dragon's egg, and find more trouble than they bargained for.Now with additional fan art!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> aka the Indiana Jones AU that absolutely nobody asked for, but for some reason I felt compelled to write anyway.

 

“So, let me get this straight,” Arthur says. They’re standing at the entrance to a long, dark tunnel, which snakes off to god knows where under a mountain that is god knows how wide. “You told him you needed to take a short holiday for personal reasons and he said—”

 

“ —‘Emrys, I know you’re a good employee but most people only have four grandparents and apparently yours have all died three times already,’” Merlin quotes, verbatim. “Yeah, I was kind of shocked, to be honest. I didn’t really think he was paying attention.”

 

“Obviously you need to be more creative with your excuses,” Arthur says. He leads the way into the underground vault, hacking at the vines that are hanging down from the ceiling so that they can see where they’re going. It’s slightly damp and smells of rotting leaves, and Merlin has the sneaking suspicion that no one has been down here in a very long time. “How many people are even that close to their grandparents these days?”

 

Merlin reaches out and snags the back of Arthur’s jacket, yanking him backwards just as a flurry of arrows criss-crosses the corridor ahead of him. Arthur staggers, regains his balance, and after a moment brushes himself down with grimy hands. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t mention it.”

 

They proceed with more caution after that. Merlin holds the flickering torch high overhead, illuminating the dripping ceiling and slimy stone path heading into the mountain. There are ornate carvings on the walls to either side of them, which depict two people dying in increasingly gruesome ways as they go on—presumably as a warning against those who decide to do exactly what they are doing right now. Finally, Merlin says: “What did you tell your father, then?”

 

“The truth,” Arthur says.

 

“What, everything?”

 

“I told him my boyfriend was running off to Peru to do something stupid and I had to go along and make sure he didn’t get himself eaten by a giant anaconda. He’s met you; he told me he completely understood.”

 

Sometimes Merlin really isn’t sure what he sees in Arthur. “Sometimes I don’t know what I see in you,” he says.

 

“Mm,” Arthur says, not in the least insulted. “It’s probably the sex.”

 

“Average.”

 

“And my handsome physique.”

 

“Below average.”

 

“And the fact that I’m your soulmate and your life wouldn’t be half as interesting without me in it?”

 

Merlin snorts. “Yeah, that might have something to do with it,” he concedes. “But I prefer to tell people it’s because you’re rich.”

 

Arthur laughs, loud and unexpected, disturbing a cluster of bats that had been clinging to the ceiling above them, and they’re forced to duck as dozens of tiny mammals rush past in a frenzy of leathery wings. Merlin suppresses his shudder with an effort, but of course Arthur notices.

 

“Scared?” he asks, teeth flashing white in the darkness. “Don’t worry, _darling_ , I’ll protect you.”

 

It’s probably a good thing for the longterm health of their relationship (not to mention Arthur himself) that Merlin is too distracted to reply. They’ve just rounded another corner, and ahead of them the passageway opens out into a vast cavern, the walls of which appear to be made out of blue crystal. The light from the torches flickers and refracts, almost blinding him, but Merlin can just make out a large ovoid shape, nestled atop a rocky pedestal in the centre of the cave.

 

“Is that it?” Arthur breathes in his ear, and Merlin nods.

 

“The last Dragon egg,” he whispers, awed. 

 

He’s been searching for it for almost a decade now, ever since he’d read about it in one of his textbooks as an undergrad. The writer had dismissed it as a myth, of course, but Merlin had known better; unlike Dr. K. L. Garrah, whoever he was, he had been aware of the existence of magic for as long as he could remember, largely because he happened to have been born with it.

 

“Can’t you just…float it over here?” Arthur asks hopefully, gesturing with one hand in a _hocus pocus_ sort of way. Merlin rolls his eyes, despite knowing Arthur probably can’t see him, and shakes his head.

 

“I told you already,” he says, keeping his voice low. “I can’t use my magic in here. Too unstable.”

 

Gaius, his advisor, had told him it had something to do with the crystals and various rock formations acting to magnify his power, but Merlin can’t be bothered going into the specifics. What matters, at least at this juncture, is the fact that in order to retrieve the egg, he’s going to have to cross several feet of narrow stone walkway, suspended above a rather terrifying drop.

 

“How do I get myself into these things,” he mutters, and wonders if destiny is aware that he’s afraid of heights. “I can’t even see the bottom from here.”

 

“You’ll be fine,” Arthur says, ever the optimist. “Just go down on your hands and knees and crawl across. If you lower your centre of gravity, it’ll be harder for you to fall. Plus, you’re less likely to trip over your own feet.”

 

“Thank you for that vote of confidence,” Merlin says, but he supposes it’s as good a plan as any. “When we get back, remind me to write you out of my will.”

 

“Yes, dear.” Arthur takes the torch from his hand and kisses him obnoxiously, but when he steps back, there's something like worry in his eyes. “Are you _sure_ you don’t want me to—?”

 

“No, I’ve got this.” Of the two of them, Merlin is the only one with Dragonsblood in his veins. “You know it has to be me.”

 

Arthur nods, but he doesn’t look too happy about it. “You’d better come back in one piece,” he says threateningly. “Or I’m getting a divorce.”

 

“That would be a neat trick,” Merlin replies, inching out onto the ledge. “Considering we’re not even married.”

 

The ledge is very high up, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the ground is very far below. Even on his hands and knees, Merlin feels horribly vulnerable with a great empty space stretching out to either side of him. He shuffles forward slowly, aware of the rough stone holding him up, and spares a thought for the long-suffering knees of his trousers—never particularly robust at the best of times, thanks to the dangers of his profession. They’re going to be completely done in once this adventure is over.

 

He reaches the base of the pedestal after what feels like an age, and clambers to his feet with justifiable caution. The dragon’s egg gleams down at him, shaped like a kind of teardrop with a point at one end, its surface mottled with white and blue light. This close, he can feel the pulse of living magic inside it, the baby dragon that has been waiting for centuries for a Dragonlord to claim it.

 

“Come to papa,” Merlin murmurs, cupping the egg in both hands and lifting it slowly from its perch.

 

For a moment, he thinks that’s all there is to it: he tucks the egg into his satchel and fastens it snugly inside, slipping his arms into the straps and settling it safely on his back. Even through the canvas, the egg feels warm where it nestles against his spine, the dragon’s tiny heartbeat racing in time to his own. It’s safe now, back with its kin where it belongs, and Merlin is well on his way to proving that wild magic— _real_ magic—is not completely lost to them after all.

 

No sooner does he set foot on the walkway, however, than everything starts to go to pieces—quite literally, in fact, as the ceiling starts caving in.

 

“Merlin, _run!_ ” Arthur shouts from the other side of the cavern, and Merlin sprints across the causeway through a hailstorm of falling stalactites, shards of blue crystal dislodging from the cave above and shattering on the rocky path like breaking lances. There’s no time to crawl, and hardly enough time to run, because with each impact the ledge appears to be crumbling away beneath him, huge chunks of stone falling into the crevasse below.

 

Arthur catches hold of his shirt as soon as he’s within reach and yanks him to safety, pressing Merlin up against the wall and covering him with his body as the walkway disintegrates in a cloud of dust and crystal. There is a chime like that of a massive bell, and Merlin and Arthur stare at each other as the walls around them begin to shake.

 

“We should probably go,” Merlin says, with phlegmatic understatement.

 

“If you think we must,” Arthur agrees, and he grabs hold of Merlin’s hand as they flee towards the entrance.

 

The bats don’t appreciate being disturbed for a second time; or perhaps it’s the earthquake they object to, squeaking and gibbering around their heads as Merlin and Arthur dash through their underground habitat. They’re moving too quickly for the arrows, though—Merlin feels one of them graze his sleeve as he rushes past, and hopes like hell it isn’t poisoned. Then they’re out, stumbling drunkenly into the fresh air just as the entrance to the cave collapses behind them, the shockwave knocking them both off their feet. Arthur goes down first, and Merlin goes sprawling after him, rolling arse over elbow until they land in a tangled heap at the bottom of the slope.

 

It’s not the closest call they’ve had, by any means, but it’s still a very near thing.

 

“I fucking hate you,” Arthur says, panting. There are spiderwebs in his hair and his face is streaked with dirt, and his clothes look like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. Multiple times. “Will you marry me?”

 

“On one condition,” Merlin says, checking his backpack with one hand to make sure the egg is in one piece. He can feel the little heart inside it thundering away, now so closely twined with his own that he’s not sure he can separate the two. “How do you feel about adoption?”

 


	2. Fanart!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now with bonus canon AU fan art by akiira-lee!

Fanart by the fabulous [@ **akiira-lee**](https://akiira-lee.tumblr.com).

 

[Please leave the artist some love on tumblr!](https://akiiralee-fanart.tumblr.com)

 

❦

 


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